The rest of Portugal, in brief

26 May 2007
It’s our last night in Portugal, so before summing up I’ll quickly run through the last week in brief:

May 20 – Sagres to Lagos – this was a deeply, deeply unpleasant cycle. Thank your lucky stars I’m writing this a week later or previously inconceivable levels of obscenity and bile would currently be filling these pages. The first 10kms was straight into the most ridiculously strong wind imaginable. I shit you not, the road was lined with shredded wind socks. SHREDDED. This was a wind so strong, that if I stopped pedalling * down* a hill, it would blow me and my bike back up the hill. It was relentless and painful and best never spoken of again. Before we set off on this ride, we visited the end of the world (the lighthouse at Sao Vicente), which was excellent, and the castle at Sagres, which was shit. We stayed in Lagos for three days – it turned out to have a thriving Aussie traveller scene so we did way too much drinking and not a lot else. Apart from Aussies, the place was jam packed full of poms. Mainly old ones. The town had a cool museum but not much else. Prices are starting to rise.

May 23 – Lagos to Albufeira – what a shit hole. Apparently, this is where people go when they visit the Algarve. It could have been anywhere in the world that crappy English tourists descend on en-masse. No character, no nothing. Really expensive and yet tasteless and dull. We watched the Champions League final, but the Liverpool fans weren’t interested in being offended by our cheering and taunting. Afterwards, I met a bunch of people from Leeds; one family in the process of emigrating to Australia. The father is a huge rugby league fan (moving to Melbourne, I might add – someone hasn’t done their homework…) and spent most of the night telling us how his son, a decidedly unhard-looking 10 year old was going to be the greatest rugby league player in the world and will one day play for Australia. I expect it will all end in tears when he turns out to have a passion for nuclear physics or poetry. I was supposed to remember his name but I’ve forgotten it already. The Algarve is rubbish.

May 24 – Albufeira to Olhao – actually, the Algarve has been somewhat redeemed by Olhao and Faro, both of which are really pleasant, interesting places full, largely, of Portuguese tourists. We stayed in Olhao due to an absence of campsite in Faro. We took the train with our bikes between the two, which was really fun – travelling in our own little baggage compartment with the doors open and leaping about like mad things to get our bikes and stuff off when we got to our stop. I have concluded that the reason these places have not been destroyed by hideous English and other foreign tourism is because they have no beaches. Lagoon/wetlands cover the coastline (apparently supplying 90% of Portugal’s mussels and oysters – how’s that for a useless fact) producing waterfronts that look out over stretches of shallow water filled with fishing boats. Does make for delicious seafood, though, so we had dinner along the front just to make sure everything was up to scratch. It was. As US/UK films are screened in Portugal in English with subtitles, we also took the opportunity to catch Pirates and Spidey 3. I will probably bang on about both at some later point, but suffice to say for now that the former was better than expected, the latter not as good – Bruce Campbell probably saved it, though, from a more harsh assessment.

Today – so now we’re in Vila Real de Santo Antonio, our last stop in Portugal before another ferry whisks us back to Spain in the morning. As luck would have it, we’ve arrived on the weekend of the international speed boat championships, which we will shortly be going to watch. I know. You’re thinking: you sly dog Angela, I’ll bet you planned the whole trip so you could be in VRdSA on this particular weekend. But I swear to you, it’s pure coincidence. I mean, of course I dared to hope…

I’ve been thinking about my overall impression of Portugal, and I think my feelings are pretty damn positive on the country as a whole. Most of the Algarve was really, really shit and I would not recommend anyone even consider it for a holiday. Other than that, though (and Sines, don’t go to Sines), it’s been fun. The north in particular was beautiful and interesting; the people were helpful and friendly; the food and drink is great. I enjoyed both Porto and Lisbon, though I think the latter needs a week-long visit of its own to get better acquainted. Some places there was a tedious tendency for people to rip you off, or at least try, which does piss you off after a while. But then I grew up in a tourist town, so I have some sense at least of what locals probably think of us. Highlights (in no particular order): Porto; Viana do Costelo; Lisbon; Zambujeira do Mar; the end of the world; Sao Jacinto (Aviero).
Lowlights: the Algarve, generally; Sines; the place with no name in the middle of nowhere; Madalena.
Best campsite: near Lourical
Worst campsite: the place with no name in the middle of nowhere

In other completely unrelated news, my airport card in my laptop has completely packed it in, meaning that I am off wireless until I can find someone to install a new one. And I’ve lost a filling. I now need to find an English-speaking dentist. I hasten to add that this has nothing to do with any perceived difference in quality/competency/etc between a dentist who speaks English and one who speaks Portuguese/Spanish/etc. I am shit scared of the dentist and I need the dentist to know that so he/she can be extra, extra careful – I also need to explain very clearly that while there may be other cavities, etc, in there, or other dental matters which need addressing, I only want the filling that has fallen out replaced. I am hoping that the bit of the Spanish coast where all the expat English gather will have someone who can help me.

So, it would seem that my worst fears have been confirmed, regarding the airport card. In a bar with free wi-fi, iBee fell over repeatedly, but now that I’m back at the campsite, everything seems to be okay. Neil is already snoring in the tent, which at least conserves light, one of our major concerns. Barbelith has come through with some addresses of places I might try for Mac assistance at least. Bless you all, you brains trust of compassionate people. I can’t begin to explain how utterly fearful being ibee less would make me, but hopefully, this ill can be dealt with. At least I feel now that it’s not just complete death that he is facing, but a specific problem which might easily and comfortably be solved. I look forward not just to a good day’s cycling and seeing tomorrow, but hopefully a cure for whatever ails iBee.

19 May 2007
We’re in Sagres, which appears, disappointingly, not to be the home of the beer we have been so enjoying during most of our stay in Portugal. In fact, it doesn’t appear to be the home of much at all. Except for a large ant population that descended upon our tent, and Neil’s panniers in particular, during our absence and has left him in a foul mood for the evening’s tent time.

Bob, our tent, has had his first injury. Nothing too serious – from the safety of Neil’s bag, the phone monkey and a pair of clippers, conspired to burn a hole in Bob – although in truth the incident could have been serious, so all’s well that ends well. We were lying in the tent in Zambujeira do Mar (of which more in a moment) when a strange smell assailed us. I thought it must be gas, but it continued to get stronger. Then, reaching for a cotton bud from his bag, Neil discovered that the smell was coming from the foot of the tent and comedic panic ensued as we threw everything from the tent in a bid to not die in the world’s smallest hostel (tent) fire. Turned out that the phone monkey/nail clipper combo had burned a hole through Neil’s bag, his sleeping mat, the tent and the ground sheet. However patching has been carried out and hopefully Bob will soldier on and wear his scars with pride.

Oddly, this incident came at the end of a near perfect day – the 70-odd-km to Z-d-M had been relatively easy and we had actually taken a mystery road, when pretty much completely lost, that turned out to be that most magical of things – a shortcut that worked. We emerged onto the road we should have been on all along with a scant 5km to go to the campsite. Which was lovely. And easy to find. And close to the town. Which was lovely. And full of little restaurants and bars. We walked around the headland that overlooks magnificent rocky coastline and down onto the town’s main beach for a quick dip. The water was crisp but wonderful and there was just enough swell to make for a pleasant and refreshing swim. There was a small shop in the town able to supply us with the essentials and the beer was cheap. Overall a beautiful place and I would recommend it as one of the nicest spots I’ve seen in Portugal.

Today’ ride was a little more like hard work, although only about 10km further than yesterday. The road wound inland for a bit, which is the universal signal for HILLS. There was quite a lot of uphill work but it was pretty gradual so bearable in the end. Sagres itself is a bit of a nothing – a small town with lots of bars but no tourists at present so oddly forlorn. We watched the end of the FA Cup final, by chance (sucked in Man Utd and all your irritating fans), in a rather expensive bar, but then made up for it by having a delicious and v cheap omelette dinner in a small snack bar in the main square. Tomorrow, we shall visit the end of the world – Cabo Sao Vincente – and the fort of Sagres before pushing on to Lagos which our rubbish guide book claims has the best museum in Portugal. It should at least have a store where Neil can buy some new gloves and a spoke tool to straighten the buckle out of his wheel. Hopefully we can also buy a battery charger so that we might have light after the sun goes down, a revolutionary idea which might just change the way we live and aid our development somehow…

16 May 2007
The stench of oil and a plague of flying spiders – ah, Sines, how to describe thee. I’ll gloss over it for a moment and go back to our departure from Lisbon. After some small confusion over the departure point, we found the appropriate ferry and were on our way to costa da caparica, well except for the usual motorway avoidance issues and a 10km trip becomes 20km. A relatively sleepy spot, in the middle of nowhere, given that it’s terribly close to Lisbon. Still, there were a couple of nice bars and apart from the infestation of cats, the campsite was okay. Then it was on to the place with no name. I shall not speak of this, because I believe Neil is preparing an entry on that particular hellish-ness. Suffice it to say, we cycled over 100km for the first time in a single day and not by intention.

Genuine travel tip of actual value to anyone visiting Portugal or Spain!! I know that, largely, little of real lasting value has come from these pages so far, but if you still choose to visit Vigo and Ribadasella at least take away this – on a Sunday, many major tourist attractions are free before 2pm in Portugal and all day in Spain. So make a note – closed on Monday, free on Sunday between 10am and 2pm/all day. And it helps to pretend you are actually catholic, if you’ve the stomach for it, when you visit cathedrals, because you can easily queue jump by looking suitably pious. A look, which it probably goes without saying, we didn’t achieve.

Anyhoo, despite Sines being uniformly unpleasant, and I do mean unremitting, the campsite has been passable and has allowed me to clean all of my clothes. Oddly enough, I’ve become quite precious about hand washing. I mean, before now, I would have said that if you know it’s been cleaned, who cares what it looks like – right? Well, actually, handwashing makes me care. I realise attitudes may differ (and I accept that the answer to the last question for many people may have been different – its probably just me who doesn’t care if they look like shit), but handwashing is actually really hard work. When I spend half an hour scrubbing shit out of my clothes, I want the buggers to look clean. It’s not enough to know they * are * clean, I want that clean clothes non-scummy look. Who knew travelling would make me so vain. Sadly, I haven’t achieved that with today’s batch of washing, but I live in hope.

Things wrong with the world today – episode 1: you can’t buy anything small anymore. When you want just one, or at most two rolls of toilet paper, do you thing you can buy that? No. Can I get a tiny bottle of olive oil? Or of washing detergent? Jam? Shampoo? The concept of under-consumption is the anathema of modern retailing it would appear and we are reduced to ‘reprovisioning’ from hotel rooms, but that’s another story.

The big questions: who, and based on what information, decided that people who use campsites don’t want or need toilet seats? I mean, I know I’m your typical southern nancy city type, but still, if you’re going to provide toilets, is it really outrageous to think you might go the extra mile and give me a seat? Actually, I didn’t even think of it as the extra mile before now – I mean, I understand supplying your own toilet paper, but your own seat??

Neil was going to the supermarket on his bike for wine and other sundries. He’s been gone some time and had drunk several beers before leaving. I better save this and start combing the streets for road kill…